


Chaser Keeper

by Squarepeg72



Series: Off the Pages [16]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Quidditch, Secret Relationship, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 01:37:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20498750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squarepeg72/pseuds/Squarepeg72
Summary: Tensions rise as the last match of the Quidditch season draws near. Can Oliver and Marcus weather the storm?





	Chaser Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> A huge THANK YOU to my lovely betas on this story - GaeilgeRua and Starrnobella. 
> 
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/148170750@N07/48665904888/in/dateposted-public/)  


“Ollie, where is my kit?” Marcus’ voice came from the depths of their closet. “I have to be on the pitch in an hour, and I can’t find it. “

Oliver watched track pants and jumpers fly out of the closet as he tried not to laugh. “Have you checked the hall closet, Marc? You threw it in there when you got in from practice last night.”

“Thanks, love.” Marcus stepped out of the closet and dropped a kiss on Oliver’s cheek as he passed by. “I won’t be home till late. Strategy session after practice. Birch wants me there.”

“Breathe, Marc.” Oliver followed Marcus out of the bedroom and into the sitting room. “Practice is going to be fine. You have run practices before. It’s not that different from when we were in school.”

“But, I’m a captain now,” Marcus ran his fingers through his hair as he paced in front of their fireplace. “My contract is up after the last game. It’s my plan for that game. I wouldn’t worry so much if we weren’t going against …”

Oliver stepped in front of Marcus and put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s a solid plan, _mo chridhe_. Even if I don’t know what the plan is, I know you. It is a solid plan.”

“But…” Marcus’ protest was cut off by Oliver’s lips.

“But, nothing,” Oliver growled as he ended the kiss by nipping Marcus’ lower lip. “I have practice and strategy until late, too. Go, be the bloody captain I know you can be. Tomorrow will happen as it happens.”

Marcus rested his forehead against Oliver’s. “I hate playing your team. Something about the way your captains plan things makes it a miserable game. When are you going to come play with me?”

Oliver ran a finger down the bridge of Marcus’ nose. “I will play with you when we both get home tonight. You love the way I plan things, and this is the last game of the season. You have worked too hard to let your nerves get you, mo chridhe. Who knows, next season could see us together in more places than just this flat.”

“Ollie, what are you planning?” Marcus smiled as he ran his fingers through Oliver’s close-cropped, auburn hair. “You know I hate surprises.”

“You love my surprises.” Oliver sighed and let go. “We both have practice, and I need to get my kit together. I’ll see you when we get home.”

_xXxXxXxXxXx_

“Sir, he will be an asset to Puddlemere.” Oliver looked at his manager as he pleaded his case. “His contract is up after Saturday’s game, and he is a beast to play against. Think of what it would be like if we were playing with him instead of against him.”

“Are you sure there are not other reasons you want him on this team, Wood?” Philbert Derevill looked pointedly at the white line on Oliver’s finger. “I watch you take off that ring before every practice and game. I’m willing to bet it is what you are holding on to right now.”

“Sir, I willna lie to you.” Oliver sighed as he let go of the front of his jumper. “I am tired of playing against him for many reasons. We have been playing against each other since we were in school. He is good. Too good for Tutshill to keep him hidden.”

Oliver watched as Philbert pulled a wand from the chaos on his desk and cast charms at the four corners of his office. “Wood, your husband is an excellent chaser. You both have done an excellent job of keeping your marriage off the pitch and out of the papers.”

“Sir?!? How did you know?” Oliver’s voice cracked as he pulled the chain with Marcus’ ring from under his jumper. “Marcus is one of the best chasers I have ever seen. Who he is to me has nothing to do with what I am asking.”

“But, it has everything to do with how I approach the people that play for Puddlemere.” Oliver’s heart sank as he waited for his manager to turn down his request. “It took me a while to figure out why you were more steady this season. But, that cannot be the only reason I ask the big boss to bring him in.”

“Just watch him play on Saturday. Look over the film from this season.” Oliver laid out his case for what he wanted. “You won’t find a better chaser in the league. Our best chaser is announcing her retirement at the end of Saturday’s game. Why can’t we have a plan ready and a chaser to fill her spot?”

“Go home, Wood,” Philbert waved at the door as he released the soundproofing charms from the corners of his office. “I’ll take the request of my best keeper and captain under advisement. But, I promise nothing because I do not have the final say.”

_xXxXxXxXx_

Marcus dropped his kit by the Floo as he stumbled into their flat. He was exhausted. Practice had run long because nothing had gone right. The strategy meeting after he had gotten off the pitch had been two hours of watching Oliver guard the hoops and trying to figure out ways around his skills and the skills of his beaters. His manager had not helped his nerves either. Dropping on the sofa, Marcus let the meeting play through his mind.

“Your contract is up after this game, Flint.” Marcus could feel his blood pressure rise as the memory returned. “You have been good for Tutshill, and we want to see you continue with us. What do you want?’

Marcus rubbed the smooth ring on his left hand. “I want to be the best and play for the best, sir. I want to lead a group on the pitch that trusts me and you.”

“Trust is a two-way street, Flint.” His manager’s voice still bounced around the corners of his mind. “You going to tell me why you started wearing a ring on the chain around your neck and why you kiss that ring before you take the pitch before every game? Or do you want me to guess?”

“Sir, I have never let my personal life come on to the pitch, and I am not going to start now.” Marcus felt the air in the room change as he answered his manager’s question. “The only thing I am concerned about right now is Saturday’s game against Puddlemere. Quite frankly, my life off the pitch is none of your bloody business.”

“Flint, there are clauses in your contract…”

“Which I have honoured to the letter.” Marcus could feel his temper flare as the conversation continued to haunt him. “I live quietly, I am here more than I am at my own flat, and I have kept out of the gossip papers. What is this really about?”

“Are you going to play your best on Saturday?” That question still bothered him. “Are you going to freeze up at the goal or are you going to go at Wood? There have been rumours about the two of you.”

“Wood is the best keeper in the league.” Marcus’ hands shook as he restrained the magic that rose with his temper. “I have spent the last two hours working on a plan to deal with Wood, and I helped design the drills we ran at practice today to prepare for the game. Bloody hell, are you questioning my commitment to the team and the game?”

“Maybe, I am …”

“Then, maybe I have decisions to make.”

_xXxXxXxXxXx_

Oliver was not surprised to see Marcus asleep on the sofa when he returned to their flat. The frown on Marcus’s face as he slept was a surprise. Oliver set the bags he was carrying on the low table and gently touched Marcus on the shoulder.

“_Mo chridhe_, wake up. Sleeping here isna good for you.” Oliver kissed Marcus cheek as he continued to whisper. “Come on now, let me take you to bed.”

“Sir, I will not do that,” Marcus mumbled as he started to toss on the sofa. “You can’t ask me to do that to him...

“_Mo chridhe_, wake up.” Oliver shook Marcus’ shoulder again. “What’s going on? Wake up and talk to me.”

“Ollie?” Marcus slowly opened his eyes. “Sorry, bad dream. Practice was bloody rotten, and I am exhausted.”

“Well, it is a good thing I am almost ready for bed.” Oliver grinned as he offered Marcus a hand up off the sofa. “Come, talk to me while I shower. Then, we can both try to sleep.”

“A shower sounds good.” Marcus ran shaky fingers through his hair. “Mind if I join you?”

“Do I ever mind?” Oliver asked as he pulled Marcus into his chest. “I was hoping you would.”

_xXxXxXxXxXxXx_

_“Bloody hell, Wood. Block that hoop …”_

_“Flint, get your head out of your arse … “_

_“Wood, get down here…”_

_“Flint, if you don’t get it together …”_

_“Get the bloody snitch…”_

_“Watch the quaffle ..”_

_“Wood! Bludger ….”_

_“Flint, what the hell …”_

_“Flint, today was your last game on your current contract. What are your plans for next year?’_

_“Wood, what does this loss mean for your team going into the playoffs?”_

_“I have no comment on my plans for next season. My team has had an excellent and hard-won victory tonight, and that is what I will talk about …”_

_“Tonight was a tough loss. We have two weeks to figure out what went wrong and get ready for the Harpies …”_

_“Flint, a question about your personal life …”_

_“Wood, whose ring is on that chain …”_

_“My personal life is mine and none of your bloody business, Skeeter. Since when have you covered Quidditch?”_

_“None of your business, Cubbins. We are here to talk about what happened on the pitch, not my personal life. When did Seeker Weekly become the Daily Prophet?”_

_xXxXxXxXxXx_

Oliver tossed his kit into the hall closet and ran his fingers through his hair. Tonight’s game had been brutal, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

He needed to wait for Marcus. They had things to talk about before they slept. In his hands was a sealed letter for Marcus. His manager had not told him the contents, but Oliver had an idea of what was there. “I’ll just sit here and wait for Marc,” Oliver spoke his thoughts to the empty flat as he settled onto the sofa. “It canna hurt to rest my eyes for a moment.”

“Ollie. Where are you?” Marcus’ voice woke Oliver from his light sleep. “I need to talk to you. Skeeter was in the post-match chat up. What are we going to do?”

Oliver struggled to untangle himself from the blanket on the back of the sofa. “In here, _mo chridhe_. I canna seem to escape the sofa.”

Marcus followed the sound of Oliver’s gravelly voice. “I didn’t mean to wake you, love. You played a bloody brilliant game tonight.”

“Not as brilliant as you,” Oliver growled as he continued to try to sit up. “Bloody brilliant plan for the snitch and the pressure on the goal...”

“Was not as terrifying as watching you in goal.” Marcus interrupted Oliver’s sleepy burr as he sat on the sofa beside him. “I will never get used to what you do on a broom to guard your hoops. I’m going to have nightmares about that last save.”

“Did you say Sketer was at the chat up after the match?” Oliver ran his hands over his face before putting one on Marcus’ leg. “What did that bloody witch want? She never covers Quidditch unless she is sniffing for dirt. But, it would explain Cubbins’ question.”

Marcus let his head drop against the back of the sofa. “What did Cubbins ask about? Skeeter came straight out and asked about my personal life. I told her to mind her own business and asked why she was even there.”

“Marc, your contract.” Oliver lifted his hand to cup Marcus’ cheek. “Please tell me you dinna hex her….”

“I wish I had, but my wand was in my kit. I just told her it was none of her bloody business.” Marcus savoured the feel of Oliver’s calloused palm against his face. “Cubbins is usually in your chat up, and you like him. What happened to change that?”

“I forgot to tuck my chain in before the chat up, and he asked about your ring.” Oliver let his hand drop back to his lap. “We are going to have to say something soon. They are na gonna go away now that they have a whiff.”

“They can all sod off for all I care,” Marcus huffed. “It is called a personal life for a reason. I will talk about my performance on the pitch anytime, just leave me alone off the pitch.”

“We have been lucky for the last year, _mo chridhe_.” Oliver sighed and reached for the envelope on the low table. “Philbert asked me to give this to you when you got home. He has figured us out, but willna say anything. He has had his own issues with the Prophet and the havoc they can create.”

Marcus’ hand trembled as he took the envelope from Oliver. “Love, what is this? Why would your manager have anything for me?”

“I dinna know,” Oliver’s hand shook as he placed it on Marcus’ thigh. “He wouldna tell me what was in it. He just asked me to give it to you. Open it so we can get this over with.”

Marcus carefully broke the seal on the back of the envelope and pulled out the stiff piece of parchment. Oliver watched Marcus’ hands shake as he read the letter. “Bloody hell …”

Oliver was torn between picking up the piece of parchment Marcus had dropped and supporting Marcus to keep him from joining the parchment of the floor. “_Mo chridhe_, what is in that letter? What is going on? Marc …”

“Read it, Ollie,” Marcus’ voice was faint as he cleared his throat. “Pick it up and read it. It’s actually for both of us.”

“Both of us?” Oliver looked at the parchment on the floor. “What could he have for both of us in a letter addressed to you.”

Marcus sagged against the back of the sofa. “Just read it, love. I think your manager has a perfect solution for my contract situations and our private lives.”

Oliver picked up the parchment and scanned the bold words scratched across it.

“Just read it out loud, Ollie. Maybe it will make sense to both of us if we hear it.” Marcus laid a hand on Oliver’s thigh. “I’m not sure if I read it right the first time.”

Clearing his throat, Oliver started to read the answer to his prayer.

“_Mr Marcus Flint-Wood,_

_Yes, son. You read that correctly. I looked up some records when we were looking at your film and considering your future._

_Puddlemere United would like to talk to you about a future away from the Tutshill Tornados. We are looking for a chaser with a sharp mind and steady hand to fill out our roster for the coming season. We understand that you may feel a loyalty to your current team and respect your history with them. We are offering you an opportunity to play for a solid team with championship potential. We are also offering your husband, Oliver Flint-Wood, an extension on his contract to match the terms of the contract we would like to offer you. Puddlemere is a family, and we would like to invite you to join us._

_Please pass this letter on to your representation and have them contact us as soon as possible._

_With warmest regards,_  
_ Philbert Deverill_”

“I guess we had better contact Blaise.” Oliver slumped against sofa beside Marcus. “_Mo chridhe_, what do you want to do? Your contract is up with Tutshill.”

“Send an owl in the morning and get him to find out what the offer is.” Marcus stood up from the sofa and held his hand out to Oliver. “Time for bed, love. We can talk about the rest tomorrow.”

_xXxXxXxXxXx_

** _Off-Season Surprises_ **  
_ Exclusive, Seeker Weekly_  
_ Bart Cubbins_

_It seems as though Puddlemere United has been busy since winning another British and Irish Quidditch League Cup. This week’s announcement of one particular addition to their roster caught most of the quidditch world by surprise._

_“Marcus Flint-Wood has agreed to a three-year contract with Puddlemere United.” Team manager, Philbert Deverill, addressed the news at his weekly press update. “He will be joining his husband, Oliver Flint-Wood, on the pitch in the same uniform for the first time in their careers.”_

_“Flint and Wood have been terrors on the pitch for years. Puddlemere United is proud to announce that we have united the offensive and defensive terrors of the league on the same team. We are also honoured to announce that they have joined their lives off the pitch, and will wear Flint-Wood on the backs of their jerseys for years to come ...”_

**Author's Note:**

> Gaelic Translation: mo chridhe - my heart


End file.
